


Thirty-Four Year Promise

by MindscapeWish



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Gen, Mentioned Bill Cipher, Mentioned Mizar - Jeraphine, dr. jekyll and mr. hyde au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindscapeWish/pseuds/MindscapeWish
Summary: Alcor refrains from getting involved in the life of Bill's reincarnation. It's too late that he discovers he should have been.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Thirty-Four Year Promise

Alcor had told himself that getting involved in every reincarnation of Bill’s soul was too much work. He didn’t even like Bill anyways-- after all, Bill was the reason Alcor was _Alcor_ , and to be honest, he often really hated being himself.

Each time, he’d cave in on what he told himself and ended up getting involved anyways. Sometimes it worked out okay, such as raising Toby. (Alcor would never regret that... As much as he told himself that he didn’t like it, that it was a mistake picking him up, or that there was no deeper meaning, a twinge in his chest told him he was lying. Alcor would do it all over again if he could.) The other times.. Well, Issac’s little “Worship me!” spiel was enough to knock Alcor out for the count patience wise.

This time, when good old Byron came around, Alcor had forced himself to listen to his own advice and stick by it for once in his very, very long life. He was actually very proud of himself. Even when Byron summoned him at various times in their life, Alcor was proud that he had left them to the answering machine.

(No one ever wanted the answering machine twice. Listening to the screams of your own voice continuing to go up in pitch the longer you kept it tended to scar some in ways they couldn’t quite put to words. All Alcor knew was that they never did it again.)

It was a certain September evening that Alcor found himself breaking his thirty-four year promise. It wasn’t because Alcor was feeling chummy after having a day out with his Mizar, Jeraphine. It wasn’t because Alcor was particularly interested in whatever the summons that pulled at him were, nor did he break his promise because he was weak-willed.

No. It was because the summoning was done fully in human blood.

It was coming from Byron.

Alcor’s eyes shot wide in alarm, breathing coming to a halt. It was enough to get Jeraphine, who had been gnawing at some taffy next to him on the couch and messing with Alcor’s pinetree cufflinks, to pause. She looked over in concern, the caramel stringing from her teeth.

“Dip-?”

Alcor blipped away with a whoosh of air and left Jeraphine confused in the middle of a knock-off DC movie.

The first thing Alcor noticed when he appeared in the prison cell summoning circle was the concrete flooring, enough ill-intent to make him nauseous, and... the metallic scent of blood. His mouth would have watered if--

Oh god. It was _everywhere_.

The entire circle, every symbol, every line, every _intent_ was drawn in fresh blood. It stained the concrete a sickening reddish-brown, not yet dried. It covered the rest of the floor outside of the circle, it covered the lower half of the walls in splatters as if the assailant had gone on a stabbing spree, it covered the bars, it covered the limp body--

It covered Byron’s hands.

Byron looked up from the dead body of their old cellmate and immediately grinned, a sickening stretch of their lips that wasn’t humanly possible. They brought the dripping shank to their lips and _licked_ some off. Byron hummed in satisfaction and stood, turning towards Alcor.

Their clothes were ripped, exposing the expertly drawn binding sigils _carved_ into every free space on their body. They overlayed similarly looking scars, visible evidence of having done this before-- of having done this enough times. The once mismatched eyes Alcor had expected were gone, replaced by...

“Hiya Pinetree!” Byron giggled.

Yellow.

All Alcor saw was yellow, of Mabel nearly being crushed between two black fingers, all he heard was the echo of a grating, manic laughter in the back of his mind, of _‘I have some children to make into corpses!”_ and _‘Did you miss me?’_ . He felt the excruciating pain of his soul being fucking _ripped_ apart inside him as _it_ frantically dug inside, and he felt it as it _decayed_ and Dipper Pines died laying on muddied grass.

He snapped.

“ ** _YOU!_ **” Alcor screeched, his form melting into black ichor and gold bricks in the blink of an eye. He lunged through the summoning and binding circles, arms outstretched, rows of fangs bared, claws brandished. It was the sight of a demon running on feral, rageful instinct. It was a sight that no one survived from.

Byron flinched, a type of regret filling those god awful yellow eyes- _get rid of it, KILL IT, KILL IT FOR GOOD!_ _DO IT WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE!_

Alcor slammed Byron into the wall, their head bashed against the concrete, and wrapped his hands tight around that pathetic little neck of theirs. He cut off their airflow. His claws dug into Byron’s throat, he could take the opportunity, it was finally here, snap it like a twig, he should do it- It was _laughing_ , choking but laughing and it radiated an evil Alcor had never felt from a reincarnation before. Byron couldn’t be there anymore, not _at all_ , and there was only yellow, there was only red--

The manic laughing faded into terrified, choked screams. They rang in Alcor’s ears like those of the innocent being punished for the guilty, siblings to the hopeless cries of a child. It began to squirm.

“ _N-No, please-- ple-ease Alc-- No--_ ” Byron wheezed, thrashing frantically, trying to get away from this monster. Thick, warm tears spilled down their cheeks. “ _Alc-- L’t--go please-- stop! Stop!_ ” Byron screamed but their voice was labored and choked, bloodstained hands clawing desperately, helplessly, their panicked thoughts raced so deliciously with ‘ _it_ _hurts please don’t kill me don’t--’_

Alcor looked, really looked, into Byron’s eyes for the second time, and... they were brown and blue now.

He didn’t let go.

**Author's Note:**

> We love torturing our characters. Considering I did this in about an hour at midnight, I'm fairly proud. Especially since I didn't stare at an empty doc for who knows how long like I usually do.
> 
> Extra special thanks to ToothPasteCanyon for beta-reading and creating this AU with osemoss! I love you two so much!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback are especially appreciated.


End file.
